Patriot or Madman
by Teutonic Knight 92
Summary: Lt General Shepherd... is he a hero or a madman. From his betrayal of Task Force 141 to his death at the hands of Soap and Price  One-shot


_History is written by the victors _

_- _Lieutenant General Shepherd

Patriot or Madman.

It was the end… or was it the end of the beginning? That was the thought on the mind of General Shepherd as he sat in the back of his personal Sikorsky MH-53 Pave Low on his way to Makarov's safe house on the Russian/Georgian border.

A detachment of Task Force 141 under the command of 1st Lt Simon "Ghost" Riley and Staff Sergeant Gary "Roach" Sanderson had been deployed to storm the safe house while simultaneously Captains John Price and John "Soap" MacTavish infiltrated a bone yard in Afghanistan. The objective… capture Makarov.

Ghost and his team had radioed that they had secured a DSM, were under heavy fire and had taken causalities.

Shepherd took a look around at the men in the Pave Low with him. These weren't members of the one-four-on; for while the one-four-one was secret it was till accountable to the proper chain of command.

The members of the "Shadow Company" simply did not exist. It was neither a joint international task force nor a US, British or NATO military unit. These men belong to Shepherd's own private army drawn from former SEALs, Deltas, Rangers, Green Berets, CIA Special Activates Division agents and Marine Force Recon.

Shepherd regarded them with a sense of pride. They like him would do anything for their country, anything to make America strong again and purge the weakness from her. Nothing is to extreme… everything was permitted.

"_ETA thirty seconds general_," the co-pilot called out over the Pave Low's internal radio.

"_LZ is hot_," the pilot said seconds later_, "safeties off, weapons live. Watch for friendlies."_

Then switching his radio channel he called out, "Team, this is Shepherd we're approaching the LZ. What's your status?"

"_Sir this Ghost_," the British lieutenant's shouting voice came cracking over the wireless, "_we've got the DSM and are on our way to the LZ_!"

Tense minutes went by before Ghost's voice again shouted over the comm, "_Thunder Two-one I've popped red smoke at the tree line. Standby to engage on my mark_," the Brit said to the incoming gunships.

"_Roger that_," the lead little bird pilot responded coolly and collectedly, "_Standing by_."

Seconds.

"_Thunder Two-one, Cleared hot_!"

"_Put her down_," Shepherd ordered and the Pilot responded with a crisp 'yes sir.' He felt as the chopper spun around to present his tail to the incoming soldiers, "Weapons ready," he shouted to his shadows, "Lock and load!"

Slowly the ramp began to lower and he could see Ghost with Roach's arm draped over his shoulder as he helped move his wounded comrade. The moment the ramp touched earth the senior shadow yelled, "Go, Go, Go," and they streamed out of the Pave Low to engage any surviving hostiles.

Shepard moved out of the chopper keeping his head low because of prop-wash and enemy fire

"Do you have the DSM," he called out to Ghost whose face as usual was hidden behind dark red sun glasses and a skull patterned balaclava.

"We have it sir," the British SAS officer called out.

"Good," Shepherd said as he reached out with his left arm to help support Roach while at the same time drawing his Magnum .44 revolver, "one less loose end," he finished satisfied. It wasn't that he enjoyed what he was about to do, but nonetheless it had to be done.

Placing the barrel of his 44 on the portion of the chest where an American soldier would have had his rank insignia… he pulled the trigger. He ignored the startled look of betrayal and pain of Roach's face and shifted aim.

"No," Ghost shouted hoarsely and instinctively raised his ACR rifle, but he was too slow as Shepherd shot him right between the eyes.

The SAS officer crumpled and fell to the grounded. Not hesitating an instant Shepherd knelt down and began to rifle through Roach's pockets before finally finding what he was searching for… the DSM. After pulling it from the soon-to-be dead SAS noncom's pocket he raised his right hand and waved over one of his men.

"Your orders General," one of the Shadows and an officer asked rushing up to Shepherd's side.

Gesturing to the bodies, "Burn them," he ordered.

The officer called over two of his operators and Shepherd watched as they carried the two SAS men over to a small ditch and tossed the bodies in. Two more men appeared with cans of gasoline and proceeded to drench the bodies.

It was a shame Shepherd realized, but their and the one-four-one's usefulness had come to an end. Drawing a Cuban he light the cigar and took several drags before tossing the still lit cigar on the bodies. He watched for several seconds as the gasoline ignited before turning and twirling his right hand as a signal to move out.

Once back on the Pave Low he made his way up to the cockpit, "What's the situation in Afghanistan?"

The co-pilot barked a question over the comm before responding, "Sir Captain Jenkins and his men have engaged Captains Price and MacTavish as well as a large contingent of Makarov's men."

"Make sure Price and MacTavish are killed," Shepherd growled, "Or tell the Captain he can walk home." He'd come too far was too close to his goals to let those two screw things up now. Other than the two SAS Captains he had one last loose end.

"Pilot set course for site Hotel Bravo," he ordered. Hotel Bravo was his main operations base for everything he had done and contained every record of the means he used to accomplish his goal, "Inform the duty officer to begin scrubbing. I don't want any incriminating evidence left."

XXX

Shepherd had a triumphed grin on his face as he studied the interactive map that displayed the latest updates on the war. The Russians on the Eastern seaboard had been stopped cold at Washington and the American counter-attack was driving them into the Atlantic.

In Europe NATO's Collective Defense Agreement had come into play and soon the Russians would have to worry about NATO thrusting up towards Moscow. In the Pacific the American Sixth Fleet caught the Russian Pacific Fleet napping at Vladivostok. Japan and South Korea had allied themselves with the United States and war broke out on the Korea Peninsula. China had yet to choose a side though but was favoring the Russians. Nonetheless Shepard was confident that she would fall before American military might as well.

However more importantly on the home front volunteer for the Service where up nearly three-hundred percent and with most of the American civilian leadership dead the war could be fought properly without the politicians looking over his shoulder.

Everything he'd fought for… everything he'd bled for was coming to pass. America was retaking her position as the world's dominate power. His men will not have died in vain.

"Disciple Nine your rearguard just flatlined," the comm tech in the headquarters room shouted sounding confused and puzzled, shaking Shepherd out of his thoughts.

"Fuck," Shepherd swore violently causing everyone in the room to turn to look at him, "Why won't those gawddamm limey sons' of bitches fucking die."

"Sir," the tech questioned wide-eyed.

"It's Price," he stated absolutely broking no argument, "Backup priority items and burn the rest. Fireteams just delay 'em until we're ready to pull out," he ordered sliding his magnum into its shoulder-holster, "Fisher, Riley you're with me."

The two men grabbed their SCAR's ejected, inspected the magazine and chambered the first round before shouting, "Yes Sir!"

He led the men through the caves and past streams of shadows rushing to secure or destroy important data and prep for evacuation of the base. Listening in on the comm traffic he realized that Price and Soap had breached the control room, "All units be advised this is Gold Eagle. The site has been compromised. I am executing directive one-one-six bravo. If you're still inside, your service will be honored. Shepherd out."

His guards looked at each other shocked at their commander's actions. However he learned a long time ago sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good. Those men who died would be remembered when this was over.

They arrived at the Zodiacs a few minutes after they left. As they climbed aboard and Riley fired it up Shepherd heard over the radio that Price and Soap had survived the self-destruct and were headed towards the boat pen.

"Your costing me far too many good men you bastards," he swore before radioing one of the hovering little birds covering his withdraw, "Excalibur, this is Gold Eagle. Fire mission - target package Romeo - danger close. "

"_That's within a hundred meters of your position sir_," the little bird pilot said nervously.

"That's not a suggestion! Send it," he roared.

"_Roger, fire mission danger close_."

Shepherd waited till the ground shook knowing that he had just killed more of his own men, "Lets pull out," he said to his escorts.

XXX

When the Zodic pulled into the Pave Low Shepherd resisted the urge to laugh. Price and MacTavish had come so far, against all odds only to be denied their prize, "Secure the Zodiac," he ordered as he leapt out of the boat and ran towards the cockpit.

The pilot was swinging the Pave Low around to bring his guns to bear on the enemy commandos, "Shoot them," Shepherd commanded and the pilot grinned as he moved his thumb to depress the firing stud. In the Zodiac on the edge of the waterfall he could see Price raise his Intervention sniper rifle.

A cold feeling of fear settled in Shepard's stomach. A normal caliber rifle had no hope in hell at taking down a helicopter let along a gunship, but a .50 caliber rifle might, "Shoot them," he ordered again a bit more franticly.

The pilot pressed the stud releasing a torrent of 20mm shells but seconds after he did the chopper rocked and the inside of the cockpit lit up like a Christmas tree, "Bastard hit our rotor," the pilot said franticly as he attempted to control his wounded bird, "General we're going down."

Shepherd swore and braced himself as the chopper lurched and spin, "brace yourselves!"

The crash was horrendous as steel crumpled and bent when the Pave Low meet the earth. The pilots were killed on impact by the force of the crash. Picking himself of the floor gingerly checking to make sure nothing was broken he went to check the hold. When he entered he saw Riley was dead impaled on a piece of pike that had broken free. Fisher was nowhere to be seen, but the escape hatch was popped.

Exiting the wreckage he staggered away from the crash and towards an abandoned oil refinery. His men would have seen the Pave Low go down and Search and Rescue team would have been dispatched to the location.

There was an old beat up and stripped pick-up truck lying half buried in the sand. He stopped and leaned up against it resting his aching head in his hands. He needed to get out of here he had a war to run. Looking up he saw a figuring coming out cloud of sand the crash had caused.

Captain MacTavish, Shepherd realized as the figure stalked towards him clutching a throwing knife in his right hand. The SAS captain had certainly seen better days. He was bleeding from a large gash on the side of his head; his uniform was stained and torn and he was walking with a bad limp.

Despite his injuries the man was advancing on him with a single minded look in his eyes. Shepherd glanced around looking for Price but didn't see him. Hope the old bastard died going over the falls, he thought.

When MacTavish closed five feet he stopped and glared at the US Army General with hate filled eyes. Shepherd let out a chuckle, "You know what they say about revenge...you better be ready to dig two graves... Go ahead and end it. It won't change anything. "

The SAS captain just stood there not making a move… just staring as if trying to figure out why, "Hmph. I knew you couldn't do it... You're a good warrior... but you could never take that extra step... to do what was absolutely necessary."

That was what separated them. Shepherd was willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his objective… whatever was necessary no matter what the cost. He'd sold his soul long ago to avenge his men and right the wrong done to his country.

Straightening up Shepherd stared Soap right the eye, "What are you waiting for, MacTavish?"

The got him to move slashing horizontally at Shepherd throat. Shepard despite having nearly fifteen years on the SAS man moved a lot faster than most people thought him capable of. Catching Soap's knife hand he deflected it and in the same motion brought up his other hand catching him on the back of Soap's head and slammed it into the truck.

The impact caused the SAS captain to bounce and fall flat on his back. Shepherd didn't give his foe any time to recover as he drew his K-bar combat knife and stabbed down center of mass. Soap spasmed as the serrated knife tore through his flesh and his sternum.

He stood up looking down as he did, "Five years ago, I lost thirty-thousand men in the blink of an eye," said softly looking up out into the desert. He could still see the mushroom cloud of the explosion billowing out in his mind. Shepherd had always been one to lead from the front. That day five years ago he'd been with the NEST team heading towards the Nuke fully prepared to die, when the president ordered him back.

His face hardened, "and the world just fucking watched," he growled. He'd nearly been stripped of his commission after that battle, not for the battle itself but for his reaction. He'd wanted to retaliate against the Saudis who set off the nuke; against the Russians who delivered it, but the President shot him down.

Drawing his .44 from its holster he realized the cylinder was empty, in his haste to leave Hotel Bravo he'd forgotten to reload it, "Tomorrow there will be no shortage of volunteers," he said pulling two rounds from his pocket and loaded them into the cylinder, "no shortage of patriots… of men and women willing to heed the Call of Duty," raising his pistol and pointing it at MacTavish's head he cocked the hammer, "I know you understand."

His finger tighten on the trigger, the cylinder turned, the hammer drew back. Suddenly Shepherd heard a sound and looked up in time to see Captain Price bull-rushed him. The contact threw the General's aim off causing him to miss.

Recovering quickly Shepherd lashed out with his forearm and made to bring his gun up but it was kicked out of his hand by Price. The pair grappled for several second before Shepherd lashed out with a powerful right hook catching Price in the jaw and sending him tumbling to the ground.

Out of the corner of his eye Shepherd saw Soap crawling towards the gun. Just as the SAS Captain reached out to grab it Shepherd kicked it away before bringing his boot up and smashing Soap in the face. Then he turned his attention back to Price.

Like Soap, Price may have been younger than Shepherd but the SAS man had just fought his way through a base of highly trained Special Forces operator and had fallen off a waterfall. Shepherd showed no mercy ruthlessly pummeling Price over and over again before finally knocking him to the ground.

Straddling Price at the chest Shepherd brought his fist down again and again into Price's increasingly bloodied face.

"Shepherd," he heard his name being called and looked up to see Soap, still lying on his back, holding the bloody K-bar his arm cocked back. Soap's arm flew forward releasing the knife sending it flying right towards his face.

He knew the moment the knife was released he was dead. His last thought before the knife plunged into his left eye socket and into his brain was anger at the knowledge that he would no longer be there to guide his country through these upcoming times; that all his sacrifices could be for nothing, that America might not realize her destiny. Then what would history remember him as… a Patriot or a Madman.


End file.
